Sta.sh
Porcelain doll with tangled hair,
People pass or stop and stare,
Her cotton clothes are ripped and torn,
Her parents regret the day she was born,
Her plastic heart has melted down,
Her stunning smile, a perfect frown,
Her shining future, a blackened road,
Her flowing words, a fucked up code.
Once glowing eyes, now dark and dead,
And voices scream inside her head,
A falling rain of acid tears,
Mirrors reflecting all her fears,
A fire raging through her veins,
Drugs to reduce all her pains,
Her porcelain skin, now scarred and bruised,
Her staggering beauty, now gone and used.
A foreign beauty, now buried alone,
A cryptic place where light once shown,
Once graceful flight with song and dance,
A life of hope and true romance,
Now blundering falls and morbid display,
Where crystal tears fall every day,
A heartless place of death and disease,
Where evil comes and goes with ease.
Porcelain doll with tangled hair,
Shattered dreams and timeless despair,
A radiant star, now void black hole,
Trying to replace what innocence stole,
Now in her hand, a bloody knife,
Now in her mind, an ended life,
A porcelain doll, a murdered youth,
Her hopeless fight, a deadly truth.
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